Fantasie Impromptu: A Wet Tale
by Just A Bit Potty
Summary: When Harry Potter accidentally upsets a temperamental fish in Diagon Alley’s new Arcane Animalia, he is cursed with a very… fishy condition. R&R SLASH EVERYTHING IS NEW, completely redone, please read!
1. A Fish Scorned

**Fantasie Impromptu: A Wet Tale  
**

**_This is the first chapter completely REWRITTEN. The beginning of an ENTIRE re-working of this story. SIGNIFICANT CHANGES MADE. Please, be dears and read it? Its absolutely 100 much better, guaranteed! And, as you'll no doubt notice, all the old chapters are gone. Poof. Sorry, that's just the way it is :P I will ATTEMPT to start posting a little more regularly. I already have more chapters ready and a rough outline of the way the story will go, but I'll try to set up a posting schedule, perhaps once every week. Ta!  
_**

**Summary:** When Harry Potter accidentally upsets a temperamental fish in Diagon Alleys new pet shop, he is cursed with a veryY fishy condition.

_My _version of Harrys 5th year, a LOT of an **AU**. Love, tragedy, drama, humour, angst, horny teenagers and angry fish - what every good storys made of! Ill try to keep most of it rather light, but, honestly, the boys bound the have problems - the fate of the worlds resting on his shoulders!

**Disclaimer: **Yes, I think it's rather obvious that I definitely do NOT own Harry Potter. Not mine. Never was, never will be... unless... no, no it never will be. Oh, and, forgive the rip-off at the beginning from Pride and Prejudice/Bridget Jones Diary...

Also, the original character Szane Alrum's name is pronounced Zane but a bit softer on the z. Alrum is pronounced like the two words all and rum put together. Oh, and for some reason all my apostrophes and hyphens and elipses all the like for some reason vanished/converted to strange capital letters ... I've read through again to try and fix them all, but if I've missed any, please forgive, yes?

* * *

**The Itsy-Bitsy Prologue** - It begins...

* * *

It is a fact universally acknowledged - at least, in the marine world - that there are just some fish it is wise not to cross. Whether they appear the most harmless or placid of creatures, beneath that misleading exterior can sometimes lurk the most terrifying of beasts.

One such beast, however, had recently had the unfortunate luck of having been snared by a most reprehensible man, and now spent his days swimming round, and round, and round, in a quaint little fish bowl. With each passing day, this fraudulent fishs anger boils steadily. With a knowing eye, his captor watches - any day now, that fish would reach his limit.

A day... like today, for example...

_ Stupid people._ _Starin'__at me! What's with that hair -__you lose a fight with_ _a pair o'__scissors? Stop lookin'__at me! Slimy little... What, you never see a fish with two tails before? I'll show you!_

There is a shower of red sparks as this tempestuous fish frightens off a would-be buyer - a sweet, petite thing with plump, rosy cheeks and a mass of shiny ringlets atop her head - with a harmless little spell. The spell doesn't even touch her, but the poor girl squeals and frantically back-pedals, stretching her chubby arms out in a desperate plea for comfort. A good many more would-be buyers reconsider after that particular show, and move on to examine the more... agreeable prospects.

_ Humph! That'll learn ya!_

With that, the abhorrently inclined aquatic beast whirls in his glowing bowl and, with a most self-satisfied air, high-tails it into a majestic coral castle - built just for him.

**The Dreaded Chapter One - Hell Hath No Fury Like A Fish Scorned**

It was a maniacal rush in Diagon Alley on that particular day. Witches and Wizards of all kinds were clumped together in a swarming kaleidoscope of robes and hats, all pushing and shoving in a desperate race, their eyes locked on the flashing new sign hanging sign replacing the old one of Eeylops Out-of-Business Owl Emporium:

**Alrums Arcane Animalia**. 1

The owner, a distinguished gentle-wizard by the name of Szane Alrum had just bought the deeds to the Owl Emporium and the Magical Menagerie and merged them into a most spectacular pet shop! Rumour had it that Szane had just come back from a trip to the Ancient Ruins just recently discovered by the Chinese Ministry of Magic underneath the Great Wall of China, so there was sure to be an unimaginable selection of Asian animals. Now he had returned to supervise the grand opening of the Arcane Animalia, which was purported to feature an endless array of rare and non-rare, magical and non-magical creatures - all _mostly_ tamed, he assures - for any qualified witch or wizard to buy.

Therefore, it was understandable that there was not a witch or wizard in the London area that was not at Diagon Alley that day. A ferocious stampede of potential buyers, all rushing forward without heed - never mind that they had just unwittingly trampled a most important celebrity in his own right, along with his two best friends.

"Ugh... I think I've broken something," muttered one voice, the husky alto of a teenaged boy.

"Me, too. In fact, I think I've broken everything, even my hair feels broken..." voiced another, the low, groaning counterpart of another boy.

"My books! They're everywhere! And after I _just_ bought them! I hope theyre not too damaged, I havent even had a chance to read them yet..."

The last voice, of course, could be mistaken for none other than the frantic shrill of a girl to whom learning and knowledge were of utmost importance: Hermione Granger. Splayed amongst the littering of new books with a pinched frown on her face, her fantastically curly locks were trussed up wildly. Her small hands frantically plucked up each book from the abrasive ground, brushing each off with a meticulous care.

"Jeez, Hermione... Books arent everything! Me an' Harry were bloody near squished by that herd of, of _blast-ended skrewts!_ And all you care about is your bloody books," said a boy with an obviously sour face, and a cap of flaming red hair tossed back to reveal a scowling face of freckles. Ronald Weasley, youngest son of the large Weasley family, and the probably only one who _didn__'t_ realise he had a crush on Miss Granger.

"It's not that, Ron, you _know_ it's not that. Books _are_ important, and I just spent a lot of money on them, I'd hate to have them damaged now! Honestly, Ron, you can be so incredibly self-centred sometimes!" Miss Granger was not widely known for her sudden flares of temper, but those who'd been on the end of them knew immediately not to tempt her ire.

Ron wisely realized that discretion is often the better part of valour and decided simply let it go. Instead, he focussed a pleasant blue gaze on the third member of their party, who it seemed had become rather intimately acquainted with a particularly sharp stone.

"All right there, Harry?"

Harry glanced up from gingerly soothing his backside - there was sure to be a bruise there tomorrow - and offered a dazed smile at his best friend, carmine lips pulling up faintly.

"I think so, but if you see any parts of my body lying around, be a mate and let me know, yeah?"

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about this boy. He was a gangly teen with snow-white skin, knobbly knees and a mop of black hair that brushed his thin shoulders. Nothing _particularly_ special. That is, until one saw his eyes. Wide pools of iridescent green, framed endearingly with thick-framed hideous glasses and a thick curl of lashes. His mothers eyes. They knew life, those eyes. And they knew death.

This was Harry Potter: whose defeat of the unspeakable Dark Lord had renowned him throughout the wizarding world, there was not a witch or wizard that didnt know his name. Harry Potter, whose shoulders bore a heavy burden. Harry Potter, whose destiny was to finally destroy Lord Voldemort.

Ron stretched out a broad hand to help his friend up. It was then, in that precise, split-second moment, that Harry knew. Something was going to happen. Something that send haunting chills racing down his spine. Something was going to happen, _soon_. Something-

"Harry? Something wrong? I said we should get going before all the animals are gone," Hermione butted into his musings, poised elegantly with her bag slung over one shoulder as she waited for her two friends to get a move on.

_ Honestly, boys are such trouble,_ she thought, her eyes unwittingly lingering on her green-eyed companion.

Before Harry even had a chance to utter anything, Ron thrust in his opinion, his voice laced with a pride-filled anger. "In case you hadnt realized, Hermione, we were just _flattened_. The least you could do is act a _little_ concerned," he fairly spat, his ego smarting after realising that his secret crush wasn't about to drop everything and fret over him.

"In case you hadnt realized, _Ron_," Hermione shot back, "_I _was just trampled as well, and I'm perfectly fine."

Harry shook his head at those two, biting back a snicker. It was so painfully obvious that Ron was suffering from nothing more than wounded pride. Glancing down the rapidly clearing street - as most had pushed their way into the Arcane Animalia by now - he once again felt that eerie chill. What could it mean? He had been hoping that after last year... _kill the spare_... Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the memories, rapidly shoving his dropped books back into the homemade book-bag hed gotten from Mrs Weasley just yesterday. His shoulders dipped with the weight of the guilt on his shoulders, yet it only made him more determined to destroy Voldemort.

Firming his disposition, he whirled to face his friends with a wobbly grin on his face, "Hurry up, you two, you can flirt later. I want to check out those animals before theyre all gone!"

Rons ears flamed bright red at the blatant innuendo, while Hermione only appeared faintly disappointed. Harry forced out a bark of laughter at the both of them and hurried off down the street. The remaining two-thirds of the Gryffindor Trio stared after their friend.

"Mental, he is," murmured Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes, but found it hard to disagree. Harry really was rather strange at times. Nevertheless, she had to wonder... as her eyes stubbornly refused to look away from her friends retreating backside. Just as Ron was having a hard time tearing his eyes away from her.

"Well... come on then, lets go after him," Hermione murmured, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

"Right," Ron said, lowering his eyes as they strolled along together. His hearted jumped rapidly in his chest, swelling at the realisation that he was _alone_ with _Hermione_. The thought alone left him in a blissful daze.

"...exciting, all those animals, dont you think?"

"Pardon?" he blinked at the girl beside him as she threw him an annoyed glance.

"I said, it must be terribly exciting, all those animals, dont you think, Ron? Supposedly theres lots of rarely seen species there, and even some newly discovered ones!"

"Oh... yeah..."

"I mean, just think of what we could learn. There are so many species I havent heard of, what with that new discovery in China. Hopefully well be covering some in Care of Magical Creatures this year."

Ron rolled his eyes in mock-irritation of the know-it-all witch, both frustrated and in awe of her sharp intelligence. "Is that all you ever think of? Learning? There are other things to life, you know."

Hermione frowned at the redhead and replied matter-of-factly, "Ron! Knowledge is the basis of our existence! It defines us, ultimately. _ Knowledge is power_. Besides, our OWLs are this ye-"

"I know, I know," the agitated boy waved it off - he'd already heard it a million times.

Besides, he really didn't want to start yet _another_ argument about why this and why that, when he could be figuring out a way to gain the girl's attention. He was almost desperate to get her to notice him in _that_ way, ever since his older brother Bill had suggested his feelings for the intelligent witch might be more than platonic. Now he couldn't stop thinking about her.

_ Hmm...__maybe if I...__Talk about something interesting, she'll think I'm smarter! She's so pretty... Okay, okay, something interesting. Um..._

Then he brightened considerably, "I'm thinking there might be something there we could use as a sort of mascot for our Quidditch Team - the amateur one me and the boys are starting. You know, I told you all about it in that letter?" he enthused, even though Hermione was already tuning out his voice. "I was thinking something sort of like the Chudley Cannons, but our own. Maybe something like..."

And so Ron continued to babble at Hermione, trying oh-so-hard to impress the smart witch, while the brunette continued to conjure up thoughts of what types of animals could be in the shop, and if any would make an appearance in their Care of Magical Creatures class.

Another normal episode in the Ron and Hermione saga.

* * *

Harry paused outside Alrum's Animalia before entering. The door gaped open like a hungry maw, greedily swallowing all who entered. Intricate animal carvings climbed the walls either side, their paws and claws and wings and whiskers twitching with each shift of the light.

When Harry finally pushed his way through the herd of cooing wizards at the front of the store, he was blasted by a cacophony of exuberant voices; screeches; warbles; growls; hisses and other more disturbing rackets. The Animalia was flooded with animals, from roof to floor, centred round a magnificent spiral staircase that lead to the upmost floors, where birds of every kind flapped and squawked. Around almost every cage, perch and enclosure hung a small mob of witches and wizard, all vying for a good visual position.

It stole his breath to see so many animals in one building. The inside looked infinitely larger that the deceptively small exterior; Harry realized it must be some charm at work. His eyes wafted over the busy scene, lighting up as he recognized some common creatures. From Muggle puppies, kittens, and birds to deadly runespoors, baby hippogriffs, flobberworms and blast-ended skrewts. From _ cuddle me, I'm cute and fluffy_ to _ back off, buddy, or lose a limb!_ To beyond the familiar, a whole array of animals Harry had never even heard of! Whats more, everyone was so enamoured with these critters that nobody even stopped to recognise the Boy Who Lived. Harry had to smile a little at the anonymity it leant.

Harry toed and nudged his way through the bobbing sea of heads and shoulders and hands, and soon found himself ensconced in a rather lonely corner. He thought it strange that no one lingered here, but people seemed to be avoiding it like the plague. A peculiar darkness clung to the walls, shot through with strange slivers of pale blue, like light dancing on water. Puzzled, he sought out what could be emanating the strange light.

A splash of water caught his attention; he flicked his eyes and found a large fish bowl, enshrouded by a draping black curtain.

"What the...?"

He crept closer, wondering what exactly would be covered so carefully. A curious frown tugged at the corners of his lips, as he stretched out a hand and pulled back the curtain.

"Oh, wow..."

* * *

It was with bitter eyes that one particular sentient fish took in the uproar the world outside his glass prison. Overflowing with odd-looking individuals with silly pointed hats and colourful garments, not to mention how they constantly fawned and fretted over the lowly animals that his captor had filled this place with. Filthy, disgusting creatures, the lot of them. Still, it was a small mercy that, after having scared off that vexing little girl, his captor had thought to conceal him in a cloak of darkness. People steered clear of his corner after that.

However, that didnt seem to be the case for this snoopy little brat nosing around his corner. Hadn't the kid been paying attention before? What, did he need to put up a sign that said: 'DANGER, YOU IDIOTS'?

He'd thought after that display earlier, everyone would get the hint and leave him alone. But, alas, this idiot was having trouble understanding. And _why_ exactly was he pulling back the curtain?

The fish gave an exaggerated flourish and ducked behind his castle in the hope of escaping torment from this scarred loser.

_ Great, just great._ _I finally manage to get some ALONE time, and this loser scar-head just barges in on my territory! Buzz off, Wizzy! Stupid human...HELLO! I'm TRYING to SLEEP here! Bloody... mumble, mumble..._

The minutes crawled by at an agonising pace, until he could stand it no more. He charged out from behind his castle, fully intent on giving the no-brained loser the shocking of a lifetime - only to come face to face with a giant green eye.

_ Aaarrrgggghhh!_

* * *

"Oh, wow..."

Harry could scarcely believe the sight before him was real - he'd never, ever before seen a fish so beautiful. His eyes sprung comically wide as he watched the fish dart fearfully behind its jagged coral palace. All he could do was stare in awe as the rest of the world sank into the background.

The entire bowl was alight with a terpsichore play of pearlescent light, fracturing off the lucid shards of a castle fashioned from rare white-glass coral. And amidst the jutting coral towers hid a most spectacular fish. Splashes of blue, yellow and red gleamed from the sleek, two-tailed body, its scales rippling with every twitch of its tails. Fins that shamed the finest of gossamer, flitting aimlessly as it wafted through the still water. Peeking between the slender turrets, one bright blue eye sparkled with intelligence.

Harry was enthralled.

As he eased closer, the fish shot out from hiding and zoomed towards his face. "Wow... you're so... pretty..." Harry breathed in wonderment, each breath wafting over the glass in a fine fog, dissipating moments later.

--

_ What! PRETTY! I'm not pretty! I'm the most masculine fish I know! Look at these rippling muscles!_

--

A huff of laughter escaped Harry as he watched the fish give a wiggle and a flourish.

"You even dance! Brilliant!"

--

_ HUH! Dance? Never in all my years...! Youre pushin'__it, buddy..._

--

Despite the swell of happiness in his chest, Harry felt a niggling in the back of his mind. That foreboding feeling was back, a definite warning, but still, he was sure it could wait until later, when Ron and Hermione joined him. He could discuss it with them then.

"You know... Ive never seen a fish thing quite like you before. What are you, anyway? If only you could talk. I bet you'd make the best pet. You're a girl, arent you? You seem like one. Do you have a name, girl?"

--

_ FISH THING!_ _GIRL! Right, thats it! That was the last straw!_

--

Harry had no time to dodge it. One minute his face was pressed against the glass, the next he was flung back as an almighty screech echoed from the small tank. A bolt of electric blue lightning arced from the luminous water and zeroed in on Harry. He could only watch in shock as the sizzling current dove toward him. With a Seeker's practised instinct from dodging bludgers, he scuttled back, but wasn't fast enough as the magical spark liquefied and landed with a soft splash on his bared ankle.

Ice-cold licks of fire lanced up his leg. Harry let out a gasp, doubling over as jets of pain engulfed his legs. He scrunched up his face in a grimace, hands instinctively grabbing at his legs to try and sooth the pain. Gods...it hurt! More than the Cruciatus multiplied a hundred-fold. Like fire it burned, but was ice cold. Then in a rush that sucked the very air from his lungs, it was over.

He was left sprawled on the hardwood floor, strands of silken black hair pooling around his head in a dark halo. Obsidian lashes flickered over hooded green eyes. His body twitched in aftershock, splayed in a boneless heap, wondering what in the world had just happened.

And to think, he'd hoped this year might be semi-normal... for him, anyway.

"Harry!" Two fretful voices exclaimed in unison. The thump of their heavy footfalls pounding on the floor jarred his aching body, and then suddenly he could see naught but too worried faces looming over him.

"Harry, what happened? Are you all right?" Hermione prodded urgently, her hands flitting uselessly over his ankle where the fish had struck him, hating that for once she did not know what to do.

Ron, on the other hand, was frantic, his blue eyes bulging with fear and his freckles standing out in stark relief against a pale face. "Harry! Harry! Look at me, mate! Harry! Speak to me! Do something!" His large hands shook Harry roughly, begging for a reaction.

Harry could feel darkness brushing at the edge of his vision. _ Leave me alone, you big dolt,_ Harry thought as his sore body endured another frenzied shove. He wanted to say it. He desperately wanted to tell Ron to get lost. His lips quivered uncertainly, the words hovering at the tip of his tongue.

The best he managed was a weak groan, before his eyes rolled back in a dead faint.

"Ron, get back! Let him breathe for goodness' sake and stop shaking him!" snapped Hermione. Her fingers automatically felt for a pulse.

A crowd was slowly gathering around the huddled trio, alerted by the cries of the two young Gryffindors. A plump, bald wizard at the front of the group fiddled with his hat before gathering the courage to step forward.

"Say, young miss... Is 'e all righ'?" A twig-like witch piped up, her tall frame towering over the short man in front of her.

"Who is he?"

"Hey! Thats Harry Potter! Its the Boy Who Lived!"

"What? Goodness! Where's my camera?"

Suddenly the crowd was abuzz with excitement - Harry Potter was _here_, at the new Arcane Animalia, and he had _fainted!_ This was front-page news! A few over-zealous witches and wizards pushed forward with cameras at the ready, and it was only after a moments pause that the first flash went off.

"Hermione... this is getting a little out of hand. Where's Bill, he was supposed to meet us here!" yelled Ron, doing his best to fend off the eagre fans, while Hermione mothered over their unconscious friend.

"This isnt going to work... we need to wake him up and get him out of here. _Ennervate_," she murmured, waving her wand gently and praying it would work.

Harrys eyes fluttered open. Blearily they focussed once more on Hermione's worried visage.

"H...m...ne?"

"Yes, Harry. Are you alright?"

"Nver... bett'r... Wh-h...ppned?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," intruded a polished English accent.

Her head snapped up as the owner of the voice stepped forward - Mr. Szane Alrum himself stood there, clad in a beige and khaki ensemble with many pockets. He bent over the pair, hands propped on his knees and his thin moustache twitching.

"I... Im sorry, sir, I don't really remember. I only remember talking to that fish, and then..." Harry managed to point a trembling finger in the general direction of the bowl.

"Ah. Him. One of my more... lively creatures, I'm afraid. Eastern Two-Tailed Fighting Fish. One of our newer discoveries from China. Quite fascinating, really, thought to be a myth. Why, the last sighting was over a century ago! Ah, listen to me, blathering on. I admit, it was remiss of me to not have a sign up... although most people already know to stay away from this little blighter," he eyed Harry sternly, "he's only for the most experienced Wizards and Witches. Otherwise, he can be a bit too much to handle. I had thought I'd trained it out of him, however."

The last part was directed with a glare at said fish, which cowered under his stare and darted back into his castle.

"Not too much pain, lad?" he inquired, turning back to Harry, "These fish have been known to give a bit of a nasty shock. Though as I said, it's been well over a hundred years since anyone has been zapped. Ah, well... from what I hear, the last one to be hit survived, so you should be fine." Hardly very reassuring, but it was the best he could offer.

The boy didn't really need to know the truth: the last person documented to have been struck by a Two-Tail's spell had disappeared forever. Alrum coughed and straightened his robes. He was sure the boy would be fine, or else _he'd_ be a dead man.

Harry only offered a weak nod, grasping Ron's hand as it was offered and pulling himself up onto trembling legs. He would take Alrum's word for it - he was a reputed expert on these things, after all.

"Come on, Harry, we should go - the animals here are too wild for my tastes, anyway," Ron said, sounding a bit disappointed, but Hermione's nodded approval was worth it.

"Yeah... thanks."

"Harry! Ron, Hermione! Are you three all right? What happened?" the three teens glanced up in great relief as the thin figure of Bill Weasley (who was staying with them for the week and had been roped into helping the three do their school shopping with Mrs. Weasley) rushed through the small gap in the crowd. "I heard the commotion outside, and-"

"It's nothing, Bill," Harry assured, all the same suspiciously eyeing his ankle under the guise of brushing off his robes. With a pensive frown, he put the matter aside. _ But why is it tingling so much? It...__itches._

"Harry, are you _sure_ youre all right?" Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm, holding him back as he tried to move away. He shook it off with a smile.

"I'm fine, I promise."

"Well, come along then, you three - Mum took the rest of your things back to the Burrow. We'd best be off," Bill urged, gathering the three of them close and turning to the murmuring crowd. "Right then, you lot! Shove off, Mr. Potter must be going!"

Dazed and thrilled at having seen their Hero so close, the gathering of people obediently cleared a path to the door, shouting out departing calls of "we love you Harry!" and "I do hope you feel better, Mr. Potter."

Rolling his eyes with a slanted grin, Bill guided them out of the Animalia and back towards the Leaky Cauldron, with Ron chattering blithely about all the different animals he'd seen and which ones would make the best mascot for his amateur Quidditch Team.

Pausing outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry glanced one more time back down the street, where people were filing out of the Arcane Animalia. At the forefront of the crowd stood Alrum, ushering people from store. As if sensing he was being watched, Alrum lifted his head and peered directly at Harry. Narrowing his eyes, Harry turned and followed his friends.

* * *

There we go! First chapter, re-done and hopefully improved!

**THE NAUGHTY RE-REVIEW LYMERIC:**

My fan-fic is spiffy and new  
So how could you dare not review?  
If you click on the butt'n  
I'll have more D/H lovin'  
In chapters you have not yet viewed!

**PLEEEEAAAAASSSSEEEE! Im biting my nails to the quick here! _Mew__Y_**

**Review, you MUST review!**

_To be continued..._

1 To my understanding, Animalia is an animal kingdom. Maybe it got that meaning from the book Animalia by Grahame Base (I love that book!). So, credit to Grahame Base! But, even if I'm wrong and it doesnt have that meaning, I just think Alrums Arcane Animalia has such a good ring to it, I'll be leaving it like that anyway :P

_**I have been rewriting this steadily for a while now, in my spare time. Two jobs and school, it's a bit tough on a lazy procrastinator like me hehehe. I have four more redone chapters ready to be posted, but I'll be holding off because frankly if uploading them is going to cause all those weird grammar errors I am way too tired to go through and correct them all :P So tell me what you all think, yes? Again, please forgive any mistakes. This chapter HAS been beta'd but like I said before, I had to go back and correct all the things that uploading did, plus I can't help going back a lot and changing bits and pieces. I've also never finished the fifth book and haven't even started the sixth, so... if there are plotholes just try to ignore them, yes?**_

_** Ta luvvies! **_


	2. When You Least Expect It

**Fantasie Impromptu: A Wet Tale**

**Summary: **Wrought with awkward conversations, deep thinking and skinny dipping. What every good story needs. Plus, Ron finds out Harrys condition! (Of course, those of you that read the original version already know what it is, duh. --)

**Rating:** PG-13 (for now)

**Warnings**: THIS IS SLASH. It has been decided long ago. If you dont know what that is, you'd better love homosexuality or youre in for a nasty shock.

**Disclaimer**: _Yes, once again Harry Potter and anything Harry Potter related is not mine. I do own Alrum and the Two-Tailed Fish. _

**NOTE 1: **Im not going to make a secret out of it. I didn't like book five. Not one bit. I couldn't even FINISH it. I just skipped through to the end (probably missing lots of stuff, but I just could care less). Not only was it long and drawn out and hard to get into, but beautiful Sirius was pushed into a veil! Not happy, Jan. I love JKR and Harry Potter, but I still say book three was the best. I couldn't put that one down. In fact, I like most fan-fiction better than JKRs books (blasphemous, I know) but mainly I suppose, because the fan-fics I read are shameless slash.

**NOTE 2:** Review responses removed - I still love you all, they just take up too much space where there could be more of the story.

**NOTE 3: **This chapter got really long. So chapter two is now split up into two separate parts: PART A and PART B (very original, I know).

* * *

**Chapter Two - It Always Happens When You Least Expect It...****(PART A)**

**

* * *

**

As if hurtling through strange fireplaces at the speed of light was not disorientating enough, perhaps what really threw Harry for a loop was Mrs. Molly Weasley's shrill voice being thrown at him as he tumbled from the Burrows kitchen hearth in a tangle of limbs. He hadn't really expected to be screamed at as soon as his feet plunged through the barrier.

"HARRY! Oh, my goodness, dear, I just heard what happened!"

The red-haired mother of the Weasley Clan clucked worriedly, arms flapping as she dove on him like an over-protective hen. His head spun as he was dragged from the kitchen floor and smothered by a stifling hug.

"We'll have to check you for curses, of course. Never know these days, especially with those foreign animals - oh, let me have a look at you dear!"

Harry decided the best course of action was to just go with the flow until he could get help. Distantly, he heard the fire roar thrice more as Ron, Hermione and Percy each spilled out. He tossed an entreating glance over his shoulder to no avail. Molly hustled him into the closest chair and plonked a plate of sandwiches before him. A glass of milk plopped down next to it, splashing dangerously over the sides only to encounter a Never-Spill charm. Wonderful thing, magic.

Harry sat stunned, as the same happened to Ron and Hermione, until all three were lined up like the three good little pigs, with Mrs. Weasley prodding them with questions about what happened.

"Marthilda Mithelwart Floo-called me just before you arrived. Saw the whole thing, she said! Imagine my surprise! Oh, I was so worried. Youre not feeling ill are you, Harry dear? Queasy? Headache? Dizzy?"

The boy in questioned shook his head slowly, offering her a smile that belied the sudden ache in his throat; he was so thirsty, "I'm fine Mrs. Weasley. I think it was just a shock."

"Nevertheless, I'll have Arthur check you over as soon as he's home. Meanwhile, you three eat up. Now where did Percy run off to?"

The trio simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief as Hurricane Molly blew out of the kitchen in search of her wayward son.

Harry took the opportunity to fervently gulp down the entire contents of his glass, panting for breath as he set it back down on the table. Ron took the opportunity to fill his grumbling tummy, wolfing down his tuna and lettuce sandwiches with savage bites. Hermione took the opportunity to round in on her friend. The friend she just couldn't get out of her head.

"Harry, are you _positive_ youre all right?"

He looked fleetingly towards Hermione; her eyes were wide with concern, complete with a furrowed brow. His gaze soon found the untouched plate of sandwiches before him. "No, wait, water, where's the cold water?"

The gorging red-head barely paused from stuffing his face with his sandwiches to wave vaguely toward the kitchen. Before Harry had a chance to even move from his chair, Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"I'll get it," she murmured, her hand lingering just a little longer before she swept out of her seat.

Harrys puzzled eyes followed her, until Ron nudged him slightly.

"You reckon maybe we should owl Dumbledore?" he suggested tentatively, worried that it could be something really serious. Harry just shook his head firmly, tossing a smile Rons way.

"I dont think so. It doesn't seem serious. Doesn't even hurt any more," he assured, while subtly using his foot to scratch the itch on his ankle where the magic had burnt into his skin.

"I think it's a good idea," announced Hermione, setting a pitcher of water in front of Harry for the three of them to share. "Professor Dumbledore might have some useful information on that fish that Mr. Weasley doesn't have - his expertise is muggles, after all, not magical creatures. Dumbledore might have access to..."

Her voice faded into stunned silence.

Harry had lifted the pitcher to his lips and was now guzzling it down, grunting every so often as air became an issue. Cool liquid spilled over his lips and down into the collar of his shirt. Finally, the last few drops trickled into his open mouth, and the empty pitcher sat uselessly on the table. Harry wiped his face clean of the water.

"Thanks, Hermione. I needed that."

Rons round eyes stared at him in wonder. "Jeez, mate... you sure nothings wrong with you?"

There was a moment of silence as Harry peered at Ron sternly, then simply shook his head in resignation, "Honestly, I don't know. I'm just really thirsty. I just, lets wait before we do anything. I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing."

With pursed lips, Hermione acquiesced, "Very well, Harry. But if Mr. Weasley finds anything wrong, then I'm owling Dumbledore no matter what you say."

All Harry could do was nod.

* * *

"Well, my boy, cant find a thing wrong with you. My best guess is the little fellow was all bark and no bite, so to speak," announced Mr. Weasley, tucking away his wand.

Harrys chest ached with relief; itd been hours of checking, re-checking, and then more checking, just to be sure. He felt as if hed been through a washing machine over and over and was just now hung out to dry. But at least it came with good news. He was fine. Completely healthy.

Except that didn't explain why his mouth was as arid as the Sahara and tasted like sand. Air puffed passed his lips in a soft wheeze.

"Can I go now then, Mr. Weasley?" he rasped, begging shamelessly with his eyes. He was tired and thirsty. A comfy couch and a cold drink sounded like heaven at the moment.

"Oh, of course, Harry. Off you go then. Ron and Hermione are waiting for you outside."

He had to hold his breath, for fear of crying in utter relief.

Harry rose stiffly from the rickety old chair, cringing when the legs screeched over the floor as he pushed it haphazardly back into its place at the table. His bones felt welded together, protesting painfully with every movement. He nodded vaguely at Mr. Weasley, and plodded silently out of the room. The day's events pressed upon him like a two-tonne weight, dragging his shoulders down into a dejected slump.

Memories of what had happened in the pet store, and speculations of Mr. Szane Alrum swamped his mind; it was all too peculiar. The look on Alrum's face C he was sure he knew something. There was definitely more to that fish than he let on.

Maybe he was being foolish in not owling Dumbledore, but he didn't want to risk that hed get taken from the Burrow. It had taken weeks of begging from Ron, Hermione and himself to get Dumbledore to agree to let him stay for the last week of the holidays C but only after the professor himself had investigated the Burrow and even Ottery St. Catchpole for anything suspicious, as well as placing up ward after ward Cfor protection. Just in case.

And after all that, Harry wasn't about to compromise his stay with the Weasley family over a 'funny feeling'.

Still, the whole thing felt odd to him. He could still vividly remember the vivacious colours glare of that fish's scales, shocks of opalescent blue, yellow and crimson. But what he recalled best was the sly intelligence glittering from its tiny eyes. It _knew_ what it was doing. It couldn't have been just a primal reaction.

Then there was Alrum to consider. Why had he been staring at Harry as they left for the Leaky Cauldron? Maybe should come clean to his friends about it... But then again, Mr. Weasley had checked him over and had found nothing. There was probably _nothing_ to worry about.

The aching thirst and obnoxious itching at his ankle that brought him to the present. He dragged his eyes upward from where he'd been staring blankly at the stairs. A pink tongue darted out to lick in vain at his dry lips C no use. His mouth was a cottony cavern with no moisture in sight. Harry smacked his lips and hurried out the back door into the garden where his friends were waiting.

At least this latest mystery took his mind off... other things.

"Hey Harry, how'd it go?" Ron chirped eager for a break. Hermione had both of them hunched over a larger, leather-bound book: _The Wiles and Whims of Wicked Wizards and Witches_. The girls lips were still moving quietly, unstopping, until the passage she was absorbed in was concluded.

"Horrible!" he groaned, flopping down beside them on the grass.

"Mr. Weasley didn't find anything wrong, did he?" pinned by Hermiones worried eyes, he offered her a reassuring smile.

"Its all fine. He didn't find anything wrong."

He couldn't quite meet her eyes, but pushed himself to continue anyway, 'Im still worried though. That fish, there was something truly odd about it. I think we should try and find some information about it once we get back to Hogwarts."

Rons eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "You actually _want_ to research something, Harry?"

"Ron! It might be serious, I think Harry's right," Hermiones head shot up, leaping to Harrys defence. She couldn't quite suppress the small thrill of pleasure she felt at Harry's words, ebbing to the surface beneath her concern for a friend. Though, it was very odd that the scarred boy wanted to learn more about what had struck him C after he'd been investigated by a fully trained Wizard. He must be really worried.

"Is there something youre not telling us, Harry?"

Caught. Harry ducked his head, rolling his lips into his mouth. "I'm still so thirsty. It's not normal. Mr. Weasley had to stop to get me a drink like eight times. He was concerned, but when he didn't find anything, he suggested it was just a small side effect. But...I can't help thinking. It was all so strange. And I think Alrum knows something, too. He was staring at me strangely, right before we went through the barrier to the Leaky Cauldron."

Hermiones brow wrinkled with thought. "You're right, it is strange. But... are you sure you don't want to contact Professor Dumbledore, now?"

"I'm sure. I dont want to risk him taking me to Hogwarts. Or worse: the Dursleys."

"I doubt hed take you back there Harry, if something was wrong with you," Ron put in his two cents.

"Maybe, but I just dont want to take that chance. I'm having too much fun here, with you guys."

Both his friends smiled brilliantly.

The minutes ticked by in a comfortable silence, until Hermione slammed her book shut with a loud thud and jumped to her feet. "Come on, you two. I've some more books in Ginnys room. We should squeeze in some more study before dinner. Who knows, we might even find something on that fish."

* * *

Harry fanned himself impatiently, and wished for the thousandth time that he were allowed to perform magic outside of school. Where was an adult when you needed one anyway? Huffing, he rolled onto his side and pressed his warm, flushed cheek against the cool sheets beneath him. His eyes were nearly blinded by the glaring orange walls, but he hadn't the heart to tell Ron it looked horrible and anyone with any sense of style and taste at all would probably have an aneurism at the sight of it. Harry wasn't in a particularly good mood.

Hermione had hauled the two protesting boys up to Ginny's room (nicer and more girlish than Ron's) and, along with the young Weaselette, had dragged them through all thirty-seven chapters of _Theories of Tran-substantial Transfiguration_. By the end, the carrot-topped boy had groaned every time he heard the page turn, and Harry was ready to collapse.

It had taken one hundred and eighty-seven ignored sighs of protest before the wild-tressed brunette finally huffed and glared up from her text. "_Yes, **Harry**_?"

Harry chose not to notice the barely concealed anger, "Are we done yet?"

Ron sagged beside him, twitching and murmuring, "_Please, let it be over."_

Finally, Hermione lowered her eyes and reluctantly nodded. "Very well. Sorry, guys, you know how I am. Once I get into study-mode it's hard for me to stop. I just want you two to do well on your OWLs," she turned her best puppy eyes upon Ron, "I dont know what I'd do if I had to go on without you because you'd both failed the OWLs. You don't want to have to do fifth year twice, do you?"

Both boys slowly shook their heads, lips pressed firm.

"Well then, how about a game of chess?" she laughed, pulling out a board of Muggle chess that had been secreted away under Ginny's bed as a reward. Ron nearly cried with an almost disbelieving joy – he was just so happy not to have to study any more.

They were about an hour into their game before Harry once again felt someone's heavy gaze upon him.

"Harry… do you remember what happened exactly, today with that fish?"

"Not really, no… Why?"

"Well, its just I've been thinking about it. You're right, it is very odd that you of all people would shocked by a _blue_ spell. When I was near the owls, I heard some people talking; you weren't the only one to have that fish toss a spell at you today. But it's very strange… out of all those people you are the only one who had the spell actually _touch_ them. Not to mention, it was a _blue_ spell. All the previous shocks of magic from that fish today were _red_. Quite suspicious if you ask me. In my opinion, the red sparks may just have been for show. With you, though, Harry… he must have meant business."

A long silence followed.

"So… what I want to know is… why _you_, Harry?"

The air around him suddenly felt oppressingly heavy, thick with heat. He grabbed at his lower lip with his teeth, cringing at the unexpectedly humid air. This house was charmed against the heat, but even without those charms, it never really got hot in Ottery St. Catchpole.

"I dont know, Hermione."

A second silence hung in the air.

"So, _do _you remember anything Harry? Anything at all that might help?"

Harry raised his head slowly at the distant sound of Hermione's voice. It was so warm, so stifling. Like the room was being pumped full with hot air. Absently, he wiped at his brow with the back of his hand, droplets of sweat smearing his skin.

"No I… I dont, sorry. I just… I was talking to the fish and then the last thing I remember was blue lightning coming straight at me."

"Strange…" murmured Hermione thoughtfully, furrowing her brow and filing the information away for later. This would definitely require a trip to the library as soon as they got to Hogwarts.

She eyed Harry for a moment, her sharp gaze drinking in all the odd little details shed missed before: his waxy complexion, broken only by the vivid red blush of his cheeks; rivulets of sweat sluicing down the side of his sickly face.

Harry stared back at her dazedly, only dimly aware of her scrutiny. Ugh… he'd felt _fine_ a moment ago. When did it get so hot?

"You look a bit ill, Harry," Ginnys soft voice echoed in his ears, muffled by the thick air. Harry managed to summon a smile, tipping his head to rest against Ron's sturdy shoulder.

"I'm OK, really. It's just really hot in here. Aren't you guys hot?" He tugged at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt like it was slowly strangling him. That nagging thirst welled up in his mouth, leaving it feeling shrivelled and cottony.

Hermione and the two Weasleys shared a glance.

"No, Harry. Its rather cool, actually, considering it's summer now," the brunette murmured, a flutter of worry tugging her pink lips into a stern frown.

Ron shifted slightly beside his best mate, sweeping those wide blue eyes over his body. Ginny was right, he looked horrible; all pale and sickly, sticky with sweat. He'd never seen Harry look so ill before C he'd always seemed so imperturbable, but now he appeared a skeleton on the verge of finding a nice grave to collapse in.

"I'm _fine_," Harrys voice trembled, on the cusp of sounding resolutely firm, but falling short in favour of pathetic. He was certain hed feel a lot better if they'd all just _leave him alone_.

"Harry," Hermione admonished, concern painting her features, "You look terrible!"

"She's right, mate, you should go lie down," great, now Ron was ganging up on him.

"But, I…"

The brunette leapt to her feet, propelled by an angry fear, "Harry! Listen to me! You go lie down this instant!"

What else could the anxious Gryffindor do but obey?

Wilted and privately grateful (otherwise, he might never have lied down and instead collapsed from a heat stroke) Harry hoisted himself to his feet with great effort. "Fine, fine," he sulked, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Good. You have a nap, and we'll go back to studying–" Ron whimpered, "-we've wasted far too much time already-"at this point, Ginny stammered a flimsy excuse and hurried from the room, "-and it's never too early to start studying. Ron, I'll quiz you, all right?"

"But-"

"Grab those books for me, will you?" she asked with a smile, and Ron could barely stop himself from melting. Like an obedient slave, he did her bidding.

"Thanks. Now, let's start with a revision of the senior edition of _Moste Potente Potions. _Write down the most important facts from the first chapter. I'll start with..."

As Harry had left the room behind him and trudged zombie-like to Rons garish bedroom, his red-headed friends cries of mercy echoed in his ears. He knew that Ron secretly enjoyed getting bossed around by their confident bushy-haired friend.

Finally he shoved open the door clearly labelled 'Ronalds Room' and made a beeline for the bed. He could still hear his two best friend yelling questions at each other as the frustration mounted.

But soon, Hermiones no-nonsense voice had simply faded into the background as he reclined on the soft bed, sighing into the bright orange pillow.

Now Harry was sprawled out in a gangly heap, his thin chest rising and falling with each staggered breath. His thoughts were a whirl of frustration – what on earth was wrong with him? _Why _him? He was ensconced in a smothering heat, every drawn breath torture for his parched mouth. In his mind he conjured dreams of rippling ponds and babbling brooks; the kiss of winter painting the land white. He fantasized he was an Eskimo, tucked away in the most sub-zero igloo of the Arctic. His thoughts dipped and swum, swerving through icy lands and liquid dreams.

He was a fish… swimming, gliding through the deepest depths of the sea. Water… water… shower! He could have a shower! Now if only he could summon enough energy to move…

* * *

When Harry woke, he felt a lot better.

The stagnant air that had flooded Rons room seemed to have fled out the open window, leaving behind nothing but a fresh breeze that whispered over his skin. In the peaceful quiet, he could hear the cosy bustle of family activity on the floors below, most likely Molly roping anyone within her sight into helping her prepare dinner.

Harry flicked his eyes to the window; an indigo sky splashed with a milky band of stars. He must have slept through to the evening.

Strange, though. Now that the oppressive warmth was gone, he felt rather… empty. Like a small part of him had been taken away with that smothering heat. Harry curled onto his side, frowning.

Everything was so still and calm, his brain finally had time to think, to process.

He supposed he could consider himself fortunate, actually. What, with all the drama, he hadn't really had a chance to brood about what happened to Cedric or about his part in Voldemort's return. Guilt's ugly hand gripped his chest and squeezed. More than anything, he wanted to erase what happened at the Third Task. Do it all over.

Not do it at all.

But for weeks after Cedric's death and Voldemort's 'rebirth', hed played the 'If Only' game, holed away like Rapunzel in his small bedroom, with nothing but broken toys for company. And he'd realised, dwelling over it wouldn't help things. He'd just have to get stronger. He'd just have to defeat Voldemort, once and for all.

Harry shivered; the only question was: How?

And now this? This was the last thing he needed. Who knew what was wrong with him. Maybe it _was_ just a side effect. He didn't want to jeopardize his time away from the Dursleys over something that turned out to be nothing.

A sigh breezed past his lips as Harry pushed himself off the bed – as much as hed love to stay and sleep, the escalating noise from downstairs hinted that dinner would be starting soon.

As if on que, cries of: "HARRY! DINNER!" rang out from below.

Chuckling quietly, he shuffled out the door and unhurriedly made his way down the curving stairs.

He failed to notice the trail of blue sparks his steps left behind…

* * *

_Continued in **PART B**..._

**THE NAUGHTY RE-REVIEW LYMERIC:**

My fan-fic is spiffy and new  
So how could you dare not review?  
If you click on the button  
I'll have more D/H lovin'  
In chapters you have not yet viewed!

**_Once again the uploading of this caused all my ' and " and ... to go all haywire on me, so I've gone through and tried to correct as much as I could. If I've missed any, please forgive, yes? And again, just try to ignore any mistakes and such. Oh, I'm also not going to post the second part of this chapter for at least a week, I'm not sure. I need time to keep ahead of everything, so I want to keep at least 3 chapters ahead. Anyway, please, do tell me what you think. Ta, luvs!  
_**


	3. Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

**Fantasie Impromptu** (formerly 'A Wet Tale')

_... Continued directly from previous chapter._

**Summary: **Wrought with awkward conversations, deep thinking and skinny dipping. What every good story needs. Plus, Ron finds out Harry's condition! (Of course, those of you that read the original version already know what it is, duh. --)

**Rating:** PG-13 (for now)

**Warnings**: THIS IS **SLASH**. It has been decided long ago. If you don't know what that is, you'd better love homosexuality between boys or you're in for a nasty shock:P

**Disclaimer: **One, two, better not sue! I don't own H to the P.

**Little Pre-Fic Note: **I know I… disappeared again, huh? I guess there's no real excuse other than work, school, and little access to a computer. But I've cut back on some classes so… maybe… hopefully… I'll get back to writing again ; though it might not hold much worth, I promise to upload the next chapter a week from now. If anybody wants to e-mail and remind me… I get sidetracked and forget things so easily.

Also... _**BIG NOTICE**_! My EMAIL ACCOUNT got deleted, and I lost ALL my emails, every single one and everyone who was on my list. So if you've emailed me you'll have to do it again if you need a reply :( Stupid computers.

And once again... _**PLEASE IGNORE ANY RANDOM LETTERS THAT POP UP IN THE STORY**_. I don't know what it is, but no matter how I upload these chapters it invariably happens. I tried to catch as many as I could but I may have missed a couple.

_**ONE MORE THING: **_Thankyou so much to everyone who has kept reviewing and faithfully waiting for this story. I'm awful, I know. Please, please forgive me! Your reviews mean a lot to me :)

This is **part two** of **chapter two**. It was just getting too long to have all in one chapter, and I'd rather keep the chapter lengths around the same length (somewhere between 3000 words to 4000... hopefully).

* * *

**Chapter Two - Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid... (PART B)**

**

* * *

**

With an over-stuffed belly, sluggish with the sleepy after-effects of eating a hearty meal, Ronald Weasley joined his friend Hermione Granger near the garage.

"Guh," he said eloquently, flopping down next to Hermione on the grass.

The girl glanced side-ways at him, arching a brow, "I _told_ you not to eat so much."

Ron just shook his head. A long, awkward silence stretched between them. Inevitably, Ronald's mind began to wander, his eyes trained on the oblivious girl beside him. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked under the shimmering light of the moon. It bathed her in glowing silver, the gentle light bouncing off every wild curl and tress, highlighting the dusting of freckles across her pert nose. She was perfect. He sighed.

In the still of the night, he could hear the River Otter gurgling in the background 1. Of course, that naturally led to visions of a dripping wet Hermione dancing around in his head. He remembered overhearing Seamus once, bragging about how he and some Ravenclaw girl had gone skinny dipping together, and wondered what it might be like to do that himself - Seamus had certainly guaranteed a 'good time' was had by all. That memory, in turn, led to the sudden disappearance of Imaginary Hermione's clothes, and Ron realized he was picturing the girl naked. Oh, Merlin. He bit back a squeak and flushed all the way to his ears. Damn it, he needed to think of something to say before he made a fool of himself.

Ron sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and peered out of the corner of his eyes at the pretty girl beside him. He opened his mouth to speak-

"Ron-" Hermione started.

"Hermione-" Ron began.

They glanced at each other and burst with spontaneous laughter.

"You first," the red-head grinned, immensely relieved as the tension fled from his body.

"No, you go," she insisted.

Ron wracked his brain for something to say. Something suave, something witty, somethingY "Well, I just ... I was wondering..." '_Have you ever been skinny dipping?'_

It was only _after_ Hermione's eyes bulged in shock that he realized he'd said it aloud.

'_Smooth, Ron'_.

"Excuse me!"

"Err... I mean..." '_Think quick, think quick!'_

"Ron, how could you even ask me that!"

"I mean... I wasn't going to ask that..."

Hermione stared at him sideways, her lower lip pulled tightly between her teeth. "I haven't."

"Huh?" had he just heard right?

"I said... I haven't. I mean, it's not really something one should do…" yet her eyes slid to the ground as she said this, as though she didn't quite believe her own words. Ron's heart fluttered.

"Oh... I... I didn't expect you to answer that." '_What the heck to I say to **that**!' _

His bulging eyes trained on her body, fighting valiantly to keep them above the neck. It was hard though.

Hermione's chest rose and fell gently with each breath.

Bloody hard.

"Well I did," she said softly, darting her eyes over to meet his.

Ron's eyes whipped to the ground. Forget fluttering – his heart was throbbing hard against his rib-cage, rabbiting at a mile a minute. The minutes crawled by in a deafening silence.

"Ah, um... so what were you going to say, Hermione?"

The girl pursed her lips, "Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing..." There was a rather melancholy tune to her voice. Ron scrunched his nose and fought back a sigh. He'd probably just buggered it up royally. And he'd much rather be buggering-

Ron held his fist to his mouth to smother a cough. It was one of those excruciating moments where he would rather beat himself over the head with a blunt object rather than endure any more of this... silence.

"So... would you... ever... want to?" he ventured.

"What? No! Of… of course not," Hermione looked positively scandalized, her cheeks a pretty shade of scarlet. She shot to her feet, avoiding even risking a glance at her carrot-topped companion, "Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, Ron, but I _don't _want to know and I-I'm not interested. I'm going inside to find Harry now."

All Ron could do was stare after her swiftly retreating form, a heavy hopelessness sinking in his stomach.

'_Bugger.'_

* * *

Harry looked up as Hermione stormed into Ron's room and flopped down on the bed opposite. He'd been dazedly staring at a Chudley Cannons poster, eyes blank as he watched the players zoom around the page, just idly contemplating the universe. 

"Unbelievable!" she raged, her face brilliantly red. "I'm _so_ embarrassed! I can't believe he said those things to me." Groaning, the fell back and pulled a pillow over her shame-filled face.

Harry blinked, "Do I want to know?"

"No, you don't," the agitated witch said shortly, huffing and rolling onto her side.

"Then, do you want to talk about it?" he sighed impatiently, knowing eventually she'd spill.

He was right.

Harry barely glanced up as he felt the bed dip beside him under Hermione's weight.

"Ron," was her explanation.

"Ah," he nodded.

"Well, aren't you going to ask me what happened?"

"What happened, Hermione?"

"He asked me if I'd ever been..." her voice dropped to a scandalised whisper, "_...skinny dipping_."

"He... really?"

"I know!"

Harry bubbled with laughter, "He really asked you that?"

"Why are you laughing? I've never been so embarrassed in my life!"

"I just can't believe he asked you that," his shoulders shook with laughter - he could just imagine the look on Hermione's face when Ron had come out with that one!

"Honestly, Harry! Humph. At least I know _you're_ feeling better!"

"Oh, come on, Hermione, it is pretty funny."

She tossed her head haughtily, a disapproving frown marring her lips.

The scarred wizard couldn't resist: "So, have you?"

"Argh!" Hermione screeched in anger, vaulted from the bed and blew from the room in a fit of rage. Her parting words drifted through the door: "Ugh, boys! Someone should blow them all up!"

* * *

"She'll never forgive me," Ron whined pitifully, sinking onto the bed next to his best friend. After sulking outside for over an hour, he'd finally trudged back up to his room seeking consolation from his best friend. Harry's slender hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

"Of course she will. You've done worse."

"Yeah, I kn-Hey!"

"Well, it's true."

"Still, you don't have to kick me when I'm down!"

"Of course I do, what else are friends good for?" Harry's green eyes sparkled playfully.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, of course."

"Why did you ask her that, anyway?"

"W-well, I... I was just... and... sort of... river...and... moonlight..." Sigh.

"That wasn't even a sentence," the brunet boy quirked a brow at his friend, valiantly restraining the smirk that was itching to break free.

"Ah, SO," Ron squeaked loudly and hurriedly changed the subject, "Have YOU ever done it, Harry?"

"Are you kidding? When would I? It's too cold during school, and if I tried to do anything like that anywhere _near_ the Dursleys, they'd probably chop my cock off."

"Aw, gross, Harry! Bad mental image!" The red-head Gryffindor clamped his hands protectively over his crotch, scrunching his face in disgust at the very thought of it.

"Hehehe, sorry, mate," Harry had to wince himself.

"Just don't ever say anything like that again, ever."

Harry saluted, "Aye-aye!"

The two collapsed with laughter, bumping their heads together. It was the kind of pointless, giggle-over-nothing laughter that everyone needs once in a while. Harry held his sides as their mirth faded into quiet chuckles.

"I haven't laughed like that in a long time," he murmured, leaning his forehead against Ron's.

"Sounds like you needed it, mate."

For the first time in a while, Harry realized how great it was to have Ron as his friend.

"Hey, Ron..." he whispered, "let's do it."

"Huh?

"Let's go skinny dipping."

Ron peered incredulously at his friend, "Are you... coming on to me?"

Harry pursed his lips. "Yes, Ron. I've been secretly in love with you for years now, and my passion can no longer be contained," he deadpanned.

The red-head smirked, "Okay, but if we're gonna make out we'd better be quiet or Mum might hear us."

"Ha! She'd probably just hand us some prophylactics and make sure we don't wake the house up! Come on, ya tosser, let's go. It'll be fun."

Harry's hand snatched Ron's as he jumped to his feet, tugging insistently for Ron to follow his lead. "We're both guys. It's not like you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

Harry paused, and gave Ron a curious once-over, "Or, do you?"

The Weasley boy threw his voice into a wobbly falsetto, "Oh no, you found out my secret!" He flung his arm around Harry's thin shoulders, dragging him in close. "But if you tell anyone, I'll tell Snape you think he's a hunky sex monkey."

Harry stopped dead. "_Tell_ me I did NOT just hear you say 'Snape' and 'hunky sex monkey' in the same sentence. Something I should know about you and Snape?"

"Ugh! Harry!" Ron smacked a hand to his forehead then swiped at his giggling friend.

"Well, hurry up then, Mrs. Snape!" the green-eyed boy dodged Ron's flailing arms, "Are we going or not?"

Ron mock-fumed: "I'll Mrs. Snape you!"

"You'll 'Mrs. Snape' me? What does that _mean_?"

"Argh!"

* * *

The two boys clenched their jaws in an effort not to giggle like schoolgirls as they snuck down the stairs from the fifth landing. They clutched at each other in an effort not to fall or bump into anything, carefully edging their way through the sleeping house. 

Outside, the stars winked down on them as they danced around a proud full moon. Harry couldn't help but think of Professor Lupin and Sirius and wonder what they were doing right now. Ron nudged the back door closed with excruciating care, while Harry unworriedly strolled out to the garage. Calling for Harry to wait, the carrot-topped boy raced after his friend.

"Wanker, you should wait for me. How will you find your way to the river without me?"

"Why, I'll just use my impeccable sense of direction!"

"Hah! You'd get lost on the way to the boys' bathroom at Hogwarts if it wasn't for the Map."

"Shhh! Anyway, I'll just follow the sound of water. It's not that hard. Come on, I'll race you!"

Before Ron had time to blink, Harry was already sprinting off into the shadows.

"Harry! Wait!"

Huffing, Ron took off after him.

When he finally burst from the thicket of bushes lacing the bank of the river, he was greeted by the sight of Harry hunched over a few feet away, stripping off the last of his clothes until he stood in his underwear. Harry looked endearingly innocent as he stood there, trembling in the night air in nothing but a pair of virgin-white underpants.

He grinned at Ron. "What are you waiting for?

Ron rolled his eyes at his companion as he pulled his shirt over his head. "What's gotten into you today, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "To be honest, I have no idea. I just feel soY strange… ever since the pet store, actually."

"At least you're not so thirsty anymore, are you?"

"Nah. I just feel so alive. Like I'm... buzzing." His green eyes glowed.

Ron frowned seriously and stepped close to Harry, inclining his head close to the lean chest, "Hmm... I don't hear anything."

Harry playfully bopped him on the shoulder, "You know what I mean."

He cast his eyes over the moonlit river, mesmerized as the silver light bounced off the surface. Warmth suddenly enveloped his body and he was immensely glad his clothes were in a pile on the dewy grass. Ron's reply faded into the background. Tiny droplets of sweat glistened over his brow. _'Damn it. I thought I was over this. I can't get a break, can I?'_

"I'm not waiting any longer, Ron, join me when you work up the courage!" Harry thrummed with the need to sink himself into the cool water; he fumbled as he tried to tug off his underpants as quickly as possible, while stumbling his way down the river bank. Gulping in air like a dying fish, he stared at the rippling water with glazed eyes. All he could hear was the steady thumping of his heart. He threw himself into the river.

Ron looked up as drops of water splattered all over his bared skin. He straightened with his pants still around his ankles and peered at the bubbling surface, frilled with the concentric ripples caused by Harry's splash. He couldn't see Harry anywhere. Strange.

Concerned, but not really worried, he kicked off his pants and wormed out of his underwear, feeling awfully exposed as he stood naked on the bank of the River Otter. Anyone could have been watching. The thought made him shyly cover his groin with shaking hands. He whipped his head around quickly, searching for any sign of intelligent life - just in case. He'd never live it down if Fred or George found out about this - and they were the most likely people he knew that would get a kick out of spying on naked people. Not just to get their jollies, but for blackmail purposes as well. Honestly, sometimes he thought those two were more Slytherin than Malfoy!

Ron halted all movement, not daring even to breathe as he waited, and listened, for a sound. Any sound.

The crickets chirped merrily at him, but otherwise, the forest was rather quietY peaceful.

It was then Ron realized he hadn't heard Harry come back up for air. He felt a stab of panic as he whirled to face the river - nothing. The water disturbed by Harry's splash had calmed and was now flowing downstream with the rest of the river. There was no sign of Harry.

"Harry? Harry!" Ron's voice squeaked with fear, "Oh, Merlin, Harry! If you're playing a trick on me I hate you! HARRY!"

Nudity forgotten, he scrambled toward the water's edge, hysteria mounting as he drew closer.

"HarryY? Merlin, Harry, don't do this to me."

His foot hovered above the water-

"ARGH!" He yelped and tumbled backwards as Harry suddenly burst from the water, droplets flying everywhere. They seared Ron's skin as he reddened with anger. He glared at Harry, ready to flay him alive for making him worry like that - until he realized Harry wasn't paying attention to him at all.

The pale moon shifted from behind a cloud, throwing Harry's features into sharp relief; his face was twisted in agony, lips bled of colour and hands clasped around his throat as if he couldn't breathe. Air choked passed his ashen lips, dying on the breeze. Ron gaped, frozen by the scene before him.

"Oh, gods... Harry..."

The boy's eyes shot open at his voice; a startlingly green gaze that locked onto his with desperation.

"H-h-h...help..."

Ron was spurred into action. He launched himself forward and grabbed Harry's sides, ready to haul him from the water C only to recoil in horror. Harry's skin was moving! It undulated beneath his fingertips, rippling like the water around them. Eyes comically wide, he stared down at the skin under his hands, and fought to hold back nausea as it split apart before his very eyes, gaping open and shut like a fish's gills.

His eyes darted up to Harry's face: it was stark white, the blood drained away with each gasped breath, "HARRY! Harry, what do I do? What should I do! Oh, Merlin, what do I _do_?"

Harry suddenly stiffened in his arms, and let out a haunting, inhuman shriek that pierced the still night like the howl of a banshee. His body went limp, and before Ron could catch him, collapsed back into the water, disappearing beneath the bubbling surface.

"HARRY!" Ron sobbed, and dove after him. He squeezed his eyes shut and, searching blindly with his fingers for the body of his friend.

Strong hands suddenly grasped his arms and his eyes popped open in surprise only to meet Harry's wide green gaze. Through the filter of murky water, he could see Harry's face staring up at him, a dark halo of hair fanning around his pallid face. Time stilled for endless moments.

The need for air burned Ron's lungs until he was forced to launch himself from the water, dragging Harry's limp body with him. His face broke the surface with a gasp. Coughing and sputtering, he clasped Harry to him tightly and hauled them both to the river bank as the water lapped at their waists.

"Oh, Merlin," he kept muttering, wondering how such a fun night hand turned into such a disaster. What on earth was wrong with Harry?

When his body thumped against the river's steep side, he almost cried with relief. Harry was heavy atop him, his face tucked into the nape of Ron's neck. He could barely feel the whisper of Harry's breath across his skin.

"Harry? Harry, please be okay," he begged breathlessly.

His question was met with a withered groan. Ice cold flesh bumped against his leg. "Man, you're freezing, Harry!"

Panting from exertion, he rolled Harry off him and onto his back. Shaking with worry, he pressed his hands to the boy's pastel face.

"Please, Harry, say something." He pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at his friend, but his eyes were blurry from being open underwater. As he attempted to catch his breath, he slowly hoisted himself upright. Searching for any blatant injuries, he raked his eyes over Harry's body – and froze.

"Oh... my... God..."

* * *

Miles away, in a large, domed room crowded with noisily sleeping animals, a lone, two-tailed fish spun in his coral palace. 

_He loves it when things go his way._

* * *

_To be continued..._

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**Footnotes:**

1 Taking a bit of artistic license here. According to the semi-to-scale map of Ottery St. Catchpole (where Ron's house is) at the Harry Potter Lexicon, The Burrow isn't really close enough to the River Otter to actually _hear_ it splashing or whatever. I think. I'm not good with maps. So, for the purpose of my story, I'm moving the Burrow so it's quite close to the River Otter, close enough to hear the water. Also I have no idea how deep it is, but let's say it's deep enough for everything that happened there to have happened.


	4. Crap, Crap and Double Crap

**Fantasie Impromptu** (formerly 'A Wet Tale')

**Summary: **Ron panics, Alrum panics, Harry panics. In fact, panicking all 'round! Also, a certain pair of identical red-heads have something to tell Ron and Harry...

**Rating:** PG-13 (for now)

**Warnings**: THIS IS **SLASH**. It has been decided long ago. If you don't know what that is, you'd better love homosexuality between boys or you're in for a nasty shock :P

**Disclaimer: **One, two, better not sue!

**Key:**

-1-1-1- Scene Change

_2-2-2_ Flashback

**Quick A/N:** It's always something with me, isn't it? But I think I have a good excuse this time! Coming back from a nice little trip to visit the family and what do I find? A dead computer. Joy. So that's why this has taken so long, needed to get my poor baby fixed. Is it strange that I hugged my computer when I got it back from the shop…? Oh and once again, please ignore any seemingly random letters. Something about the format or whatever when I upload these just doesn't seem to agree with Also forgive any typos and such… uhh this thing isn't beta'd.

**Chapter Three — Oh, Crap, Crap, and Double Crap!**

As the moon sailed high overhead, the paths of Diagon Alley were filled with a tense silence. In the high rafters of Diagon Alley's new Arcane Animalia, a faint, golden glow flickered across the many crisscrossed beams that supported its great domed roof. It shone from a single, brave candle, its warm light flickering weakly against the fall of darkness, flinging distorted shadows across the room. Still, it battled valiantly against the odds... until the all-encompassing shadow of a gloved hand plunged the down upon the small flame, and all light was extinguished.

A soft breath released into the dark, billowing with a puff of curling smoke. After a long silence, an insidious voice pierced the still night air, sculpted with the arrogant tones of an aristocrat: "I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Alrum. What will our Lord think? You're lucky I found out before he did."

Pregnant silence followed, broken only heavily booted feet shuffling nervously along the wide, dusty platform that kept them aloft in the high baulks of the Animalia. "Perhaps you don't quite grasp the situation, Alrum. You've made quite a… blunder and don't think for one moment that our Lord will let you off lightly," the voice prodded, chased by another cloud of smoke.

Finally, a familiar, thickly accented voice murmured into the night, this one crafted by the streets of London: "You _know_ it wasn't my fault. It was that bloody—"

"I've no mood for excuses," broke in the deep, haughty voice, "Besides, it isn't _I_ whom the Dark Lord will find fault in. _I_ am only trying to help you, dear friend. Don't waste your time explaining to me. What_ you_ need, fool, is my help, and I am afraid it does come with a bit of a price."

The second voice gulped, and dared to whisper, "And what is it you'll do for me?"

"What I do best, my friend: Lie," the hidden person's tones were shaped by an obvious smirk, sending another delicate smoke ring billowing into the night air.

"Y-you would lie to our Lord? I-I could never!"

"All you need to do is go along with this. Don't toy with me, Alrum. Are you really willing to sacrifice yourself for _honour_?" the mysterious voice fairly spat, whirling to face his cowering 'friend'.

Alrum's neatly combed mustache twitched, belying the sudden terror that froze his limbs. "... No. You have me there, old chum. Just tell me what to do."

-1-1-1-

The normally jovial Burrow dripped with sinister shadows. A shiver traversed through Ron's lanky frame as he crept, silent as a wraith, up the rickety staircase. He knew this house like the back of his right hand ('hey, when did that freckle get there?' Ron blinked curiously at his the offending blemish on his finger) and easily navigated his way up to the third landing. He hovered outside Ginny's room, pressing his ear against the door. Silence.

Swallowing his breath, he tentatively pushed on the door. It swung open with barely so much as a whisper. Sinking his teeth firmly into his bottom lip, he tip-toed towards Hermione's bed.

For a moment, he was struck dumb by her angelic beauty. Her chocolate locks fanned out around her head in a dark halo. His heart leapt to his throat as he prepared himself — no doubt he'd get his head rightly bitten off, but it was a risk he _had_ to take. Sucking in a deep breath, he clamped a hand over her mouth and held on for dear life.

She jolted awake, eyes wild with fright as they darted around the room, searching for her attacker.

"Hermione!" he hissed, "It's me, Ron! Shhh, you'll wake up Ginny!"

Her eyes burned into him angrily. Obviously, she was still a little ticked about earlier that night. He offered a sheepish grin.

"Now isn't the time, Hermione. Harry's in trouble."

He wondered why the sudden frantic worry in her eyes made him burn with jealousy.

"What's happened?" she whispered fiercely, already throwing back the heavy quilt and struggling past his hulking frame. Ron could do naught but stare at her as he recalled what had sent him so frantically running back to the house for help.

_2-2-2_

"_Please, Harry, say something." He pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at his friend, but his eyes were blurry from being open underwater. As he attempted to catch his breath, he slowly hoisted himself upright. Searching for any blatant injuries, he raked his eyes over Harry's body — and froze._

"_Oh…my…God…"_

_Ronald blinked, and blinked again, but the scene before him just refused to change, even just a little. In a daze, his eyes slowly traversed over glittering green scales, awash with a silver glow from the pearly moon. His jaw dropped a little wider as he took in a broad, sweeping tail-fin, slowly unfurling from that long, sweeping tail like a midnight flower the colour of frozen opals. By the time his eyes found the gaping gills that gashed the slender sides of his best friend's upper torso, he was sure that the dizzying rush in his ears was his mind flying away forever. _

_The poor, traumatized Ronald only stared and stared at the limp, mutated body of his best friend, his mind void of everything but the sight of Harry lying there, so still; and slowly but surely his draw dropped completely to the ground. _

_It was then that a pair of hazy emerald eyes slitted open to face the world. For endless minutes, Ron and Harry gazed at each other, both stunned beyond movement._

"_...Ron," finally came Harry's weak voice, shaking like a brittle leaf sailing on the wind. "What on earth happened?" His slender body shivered as the night's cold air kissed his skin, and blearily he tried to push himself upright, only to find his arms had decided to melt into jelly. He slipped back into the muddy banks with a grunt, blinking up at the sky through infuriatingly blurry eyes. 'Where are my glasses?' Unthinkingly, Harry smeared mud all over his moon-pale face as he reached up to feel around for those ghastly spectacles._

"_Ron?" he incited, just barely focussing on the solid blur of his friend and fighting the rising wave of dread that welled within his chest. He tried his hardest to get a clear image of Ron, but all he could make out was the vague outline of mussed red hair and the frightened glow of wide blue eyes._

_Ron himself was having a hard time fighting emotion himself. It took every ounce of his wavering will power not to throw himself on the dewy grass and let loose a scream of the insane. Of course, outwardly, he was almost the picture of calm as he looked upon a sight he'd never in his wildest dreams thought he'd ever see. Well, maybe not his wildest dreams. There was this one time that he'd dreamed he— Ron shook his head abruptly, and tried once more at blinking his eyes. A quiet voice inside him dared to suggest that maybe he wasn't insane, and perhaps... possibly... maybe... therefore... wasn't hallucinating. So, all things considered, Ron was surprised most that he managed to find his voice at all. _

"_Okay. H-Harry... now, before I say anything else... Promise you won't panic."_

_Probably not the **best** start for delivering bad news. And Harry had a horrible feeling it would definitely get worse._

"_W-what do you mean...?" Harry inquired, as swallowed around the giant lump lodged in his throat._ _If only he didn't feel as if he'd been swallowed and spat out by Hogwarts' Giant Squid twice over . Heck, if only he could see — being near blind was really, really unnerving._

"_Well, ah, you see," here, Ron forced himself to stop, gather his thoughts, and try to be as tactful as possible. Which wasn't exactly his strong suit. "I don't know how quite to tell you this, Harry... but you... seem to have turned into a mermaid." There. That wasn't so hard, was it?_

_For a long while after that, it seemed even the crickets were too stunned to speak._

"_I... see."_

_It seemed as if those words were the key to unlocking Ron's unfathomable wall of calm. The dam burst._

"_Oh... gawd... Harry... you're a mermaid. A mermaid! A FREAKING BLOODY MERMAID! Oh gawd, oh Merlin, oh gawd, Merlin, somebody. A mermaid. Gawd. What are you gonna do? What are we gonna do! WhatarewegonnadoohMerlinwhatarewegonnadowhatarewegonnadowhatarewegonnado! ohMerlin! Merlinmotherofgryffindor—a MERMAID! WHAT ARE WE GONNA D—"_

"_RON!" screamed Harry, slapping his palm briskly across Ron's cheek. The babble ceased abruptly. The Boy Who Lived took a deep... deep breath, and slowly counted to ten. "Okay... Okay. Okay. Okay... Okay." Harry then paused and took another long, shuddering breath, "Okay... Okay. Okay, here's what we're gonna do. You... are going to go in the house, and get Hermione and my glasses. And I... I am going to wait here... unconscious."_

_Ron fairly whimpered as his transformed friend slumped to the earth once more. Unconscious indeed._

_2-2-2_

"…So I threw on my clothes and ran back to the house. That's basically what happened," finished Ron as he led the shocked brunette witch down the path he and Harry had taken earlier. His hand still trembled as he held back an offending branch that jutted out to block their path. He winced as the spiny leaves pricked his skin.

"I don't believe it!" she announced, shaking her head in skepticism. Honestly — it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. People just didn't up and turn into mermaids! It wasn't possible—unless...? Hermione's steps halted abruptly as the thought struck her: the fish! What if...? The worry that had been trampled by reason roared to life again. Maybe Ron _was_ telling the truth! Gnawing her lip thoughtfully, she shoved back another branch and raced onward.

"Hermione wai—" Ron stopped short as the wayward branch Hermione'd pushed back came flinging back toward him and slapped him in the mouth. Grumbling angrily, he stomped after the shadow of his friend, who was rapidly disappearing into the thicket ahead. "Hermione!" he called out after her, fighting against the claw-like twigs that seemed to jump out at him with spindly fingers whenever he walked past. Already he looked like he'd insulted a hippogriff, and the many, tiny scratches were starting to sting annoyingly. Still, he knew he had a friend in trouble and resisted the urge to crawl back into bed and forget any of this had ever happened. Maybe there was still a chance it would turn out to be a strange, horrible dream...

Sighing despondently, he trudged onward all the same, hoping that maybe— "Ronald! You'd better hope that by the time you catch up to me that what I saw was just a hallucination, or you'll regret ever having saved my life in that bathroom!"

Ron shuddered as Hermione's furious screech stabbed into the still night. 'Oh, Merlin... what have I done now? Am I being punished? I didn't mean to steal those sweets from Neville's plate, but he wasn't looking and didn't seem like he wanted them anyway!' He squeezed his eyes shut and wished as hard as he could that everything would turn out fine as he cleared the last chaparral...

"Is that you, Ron?" came Hermione's sharp voice.

"Y-yes," he squeaked, popping open his eyes… then quickly shutting them once more. Because, even if they were both boys, Ron wasn't really expecting to see his best friend sprawled naked on a mud-slick river bank, and his other best friend standing ten feet away with her hands clamped firmly over her eyes. Even in the dim light he could still make out the beet red flush of her face.

When she spoke again, the highly embarrassed witch's voice was tight with anger, "This had _better not_ be a prank, Ronald, because if it is, I swear I'll—"

"N-no! It isn't! I swear, he was a mermaid—tail, fins, gills, everything! Honest!"

"You're so horrible Ron! Tell me what's really wrong with him! He isn't drunk is he? I told you boys not to sneak any of Bill's firewhiskey!"

"He's not! Honest!" Ron pleaded, slapping his own hand over his eyes so he wouldn't risk perving on his still unconscious friend. Stretching out his other hand, he hesitantly waded toward Hermione's general direction. "You _have_ to believe me, Hermione—"

"No! You'll make up anything to get out of trouble, won't you? People just don't suddenly turn into mermaids! I'm not doing _anything_ until I know the TRUTH and until Harry has clothes on. I'm sick of cleaning up after you two."

Ron fought tears of frustration — was his story _really_ that unbelievable...? Nevertheless, they didn't have time to sit around debating whether he was a liar or not. There was something _really_ wrong with Harry and he didn't think it was a good idea to just let him lie there naked while they both argued with their hands over their eyes. Best just to concede for now, he thought.

"Ugh, _fine_! We had a little too much to drink, came down here for a swim, and passed out. Happy now? Now I need your help getting him back to the house." Honestly, there was just no dealing with her when she was being stubborn! What a woman... Ron suppressed a giddy little grin.

"Hmph. There's no need to be tart with me, Ron. All I wanted was the truth. I _was_ sleeping peacefully before you just barged into Ginny's room and tried to suffocate me!"

"Hey, I wasn't suffo—"

"Just be quiet, and cover up Harry," she instructed, breathing deeply through her nose to try and curb her ire.

Rather than risk any more of her disfavour, Ron sulkily searched around in the dark for Harry's discarded clothes, conveniently not looking anywhere near the unconscious boy's naked body. After he'd plucked up the last item of clothing—a rather muddy flannel shirt—he dressed Harry as gingerly as possible, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to touch... anything.

Hermione peeked through her fingers at where Ron was kneeling by the now mostly clothed Harry, and couldn't help but giggle at the grimace plastered all over his face, almost forgetting that she was still furious with them both. "Oh, really, Ron, you're both boys!"

The Weasley boy did nothing but grunt negatively as he fumbled with Harry, muttering something like 'doesn't mean I want to feel up my best friend', slinging one of the sleeping boy's arms around his neck and gripping his waist. "Come on, Hermione, help me with him. Let's get him inside."

With Hermione's help, they slung Harry's limp body between them and slowly... very slowly... trudged through the thick clump of forest back towards the Burrow.

-1-1-1-

Ron gazed through a curtain of vivid red bangs at his slumbering friend. He sat completely still on the soft bed opposite, Hermione right by his side. Only the stark white of his knuckles and the firm press of his lips belied his calm exterior. He just couldn't understand why Hermione wouldn't believe him! He'd been trying for over an hour to convince her that he _had_ been telling the truth the first time, but she refused to believe him. No, apparently her friends were both lushes that should know better and 'I'm not going to believe such wild stories, because everybody knows wizards don't turn into mermaids... or mermen, for that matter!'

After they'd struggled with their friend's deadweight all the way back to the house, up the stairs and into the bathroom, Ron was again given the uniquely embarrassing task of cleaning both him and Harry of all the mud while Hermione waited outside for her turn. All the while, Ron had been fuming at his female friend, just as she was fuming at him. It'd been a struggle, with Harry still stubbornly unconscious and therefore not helping in the _slightest_ to get himself clean, but Ron had managed. Barely. And it was still bloody mortifying to undress his friend – perhaps even more so than redressing him.

The night so far had definitely been a test of friendship. And it really didn't help that he was feeling all warm and tingly in his lower belly, thinking of the soggy Hermione waiting outside and huffing in annoyance every few minutes. When he'd managed to sling a clean Harry over his shoulder and peak his head out the door, she'd been there, looking adorably haggard, all smudged with dirt and mud. His heart gave a sigh.

"Bathroom's free," he'd whispered, tugging Harry out the door and to their bedroom. Hermione had only nodded and slipped into the vacant room to clean the muck from her body.

Ron cringed; they'd have to think up some excuse as to why all their clothes were so filthy, but right now they had more important manners. Soon enough the young witch had snuck back into his and Harry's room, where they'd proceeded to argue in hushed voices for the next hour or so over what had really happened.

So by now he'd given up any hope of swaying her firm will, and had simply taken to sitting sulkily beside her. A heavy silence fell over the room. He glanced out the misshaped window, and noticed a shy sun peeking over the rolling hills. Sleepily he rubbed his eyes. 'Man... how long have we been sitting here?'

"All night," whispered Hermione, her eyes trained on the muss of black hair peeking from under the pile of blankets across from them.

"Huh?" Ron asked intelligently.

"I said we've been up all night," she repeated.

"Huh," Ron replied, his eyebrows raising. 'I really must stop talking without thinking.'

"Yes, you must," said Hermione, a glint of humour in her voice. Ron just stared sideways at her and shook his head.

"Do you think we should wake him up?"

"No... no, let him sleep for now. I'll lecture you both later. I'm too tired to scold him now." She had dark shadows under her pretty brown eyes.

Ronald was quiet for a long time, watching the sun soar up into a pale, morning sky. Finally, he sighed and swivelled to face his bushy-haired friend.

"So why won't you believe me?"

"Oh, shut _up_, Ronald!"

-1-1-1-

At first, rather than awaken at the annoying sound of muffled voices intruding into his dreams, Harry only snuggled deeper into the warm cacoon of blankets, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. Unfortunately sounds seemed only to grow louder, stabbing at consciousness, and ever so slowly he creaked on eye open. Flickering his gaze around the room; empty. He frowned blearily, lifting his head slightly only to drop it back with a thud as the room swam before his eyes. A groan slid past his arid lips, and instantly the voices ceased. Moments later, the door screeched as it was pushed open, and two heads popped out from behind it.

"Would you look at that, Harry finally decided to grace the waking world with his sparkling presence."

"About time, I say, you've been sleeping for hours mate! Everyone's already had breakfast, but we told Mum you were feeling sick so she let you sleep a bit longer. Ron and Hermione should be coming back up soon. They're down playing Exploding Snap with Ginny."

Harry only stared at the two identical blotches of bright red that he supposed were the heads of Fred and George peeking into the room. "What... what are you talking about?" his voice was thin and scratchy, choked past the dry walls of his mouth, almost strangled by his tongue. He lapped half-heartedly at his lips, trying to work up some moisture.

One of the blobs of colour peering from behind the door grinned widely and breezed into the room. Harry watched it grow steadily larger until he could make out the blurry face of one of the twins — he couldn't tell without his glasses. The curved, cold rim of something was pressed against his lips, and as soothing liquid poured into his mouth, he realised it was just a glass of water. Lovely...

Sighing in relief, he smiled vaguely up at the twin, "Thank you... um, where are my glasses?"

"Right here," chirped the second twin, sliding them onto his nose. Suddenly the world was crystal clear.

"All better, Harry?" asked George — it seems it was he that had given Harry the water. He could tell it was him by the triangular pattern of freckles that dotted the left side of his nose. Fred didn't have such a pattern.

Harry nodded at him warily. He couldn't help but think there was something up with the twins today — something in their eyes seemed especially mischievous, as if they held a most wondrous secret between them.

"You've been asleep for ages, though, Harry. Sick or not, Mum was just about ready to call Dumbledore."

"I felt like I haven't slept at all... how long have I been out?"

"Almost a day," answered Fred, flicking Harry on the nose. The bleary boy batted his hand away, scrunching up his face.

"Ugh, really? I don't feel rested at all. And I had the strangest dream..."

The twins shared a heavy look, grins itching to spread at the corners of their lips. "Funny you should mention that, Harry, because—"

"HARRY! You're awake!"

All three heads turned to greet Ron, who'd just burst into the room with Hermione on his heels. Both beared wide smiles as they rushed towards the bed. It was only up close that Harry noticed the heavy circles haunting Ron's blue eyes, the strains of worry in his brow. Hermione also looked a little concerned, but disappointment radiated from her face more than anything else.

"I can't believe you Harry — I hope you've learnt your lesson," she huffed, levelling him with a hard glare.

"What...?" the room dipped and swerved suddenly as he tried to sit up.

"There's no need to hide from me anymore, Ron told me everything."

"...Huh...?"

"I'd expect it of Ron — (Ron: "HEY!") — maybe, but not _you_, Harry. I just can't believe you let Ron talk you into getting drunk. So irresponsible! Even for you, Harry."

"What? But I didn't get dr—"

"Don't bother lying to me, Harry."

"But I'm not lying!"

"Harry—"

"Actually, Hermione," interrupted George, tossing a look at his brother, "Harry's telling the truth."

At the dumbfounded looks on the trio's faces, Fred stepped up beside his brother, grinning broadly, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, brother one?"

"I think I am, brother two!"

"It seems these poor souls need some enlightening, don't you agree, Forge?

"Agree, I do, Gred."

"Then gather 'round, children, and my dear brother and I shall tell you a tale."

"That we will, brother mine, that we will," agreed George, crossing his arms behind his back as a slick smile spread over his lips.

"As all _good_ people were last night, we were tucked in our beds, sleeping, were we not, George?"

"That we were, Fred."

"When all of a sudden, what do we hear?"

"A scream!" gasped George, clutching at his chest in mock-horror.

"A loud scream, wasn't it George?"

"_Very_ loud, Fred. Surprised we were the only ones who heard!"

"And like any concerned person—"

"We went to investigate—"

"—Naturally, George—"

"And what do we find?"

"Something _very_ odd, George."

"Very odd in_deed_, Fred!"

"Can you guess what we found, Harry?" they both chorused, turning their identical eyes upon him.

Harry fixed them with a blank stare, although by the sinking weight in his stomach he had a feeling he knew that he wouldn't like what they were about to say.

"Not that we would ever tell, mind you—"

"Of course not, George!"

"Not at all, we're good at keeping secrets..."

The twins then shared a _most_ cheeky glance, and both then declared at once: "You can trust us!" ... their voices dripping with honey.

Ron gulped.

-1-1-1-

_To be continued…_

**THE NAUGHTY RE-REVIEW LYMERIC:**

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So how could you dare not review?

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**I have the next chapter already written so… hopefully it won't be too long before the next one is up. But I don't want to post it until I have another one done ; sorry guys.**


	5. What the Twins Saw

**Fantasie Impromptu: A Wet Tale**

**Summary: **The Twins explain what they saw – in a roundabout way – and Hermione takes charge.

**Rating**: T (for now)

**Warnings**: This will be SLASH in the future, between Draco and Harry, though nothing graphic will happen until they are of age. They won't be rushing into a relationship, OR into bed. If you don't know, slash is the term for a homosexual relationship between guys.

**Author's Note:** Just to let everyone know, this story is highly AU. Go back a few years, after fourth year, and take a hard left, because this story definitely deviates far off-course. Though I may borrow elements from the later books, it won't be terribly many as they annoyed the hell out of me. And the epilogue? Don't even think it. "Albus Severus" and "James Sirius"? Seriously? Anyway, I won't rant ^^;

Oh and please excuse any typos/grammatical errors. I did re-read through it, but it's also 2am so I'm guessing I'm not at my best.

**Apology**: Hi everyone. Who would expect me to update this after 3 years? Certainly not me. If you'd like a bit of an explanation, please read my profile. I would like to thank everyone who enjoyed this story and took the time to review, even years after the last update. It's because of you I decided to sit down and write this. It's probably not the most brilliant piece of fiction, as I'm quite rusty and it's a bit of a fluff chaper, but I do hope you like it. I will try and answer some people's questions from reviews in the next chapter (if there is interest). Now, read on!

**Chapter 4 – What the Twins Saw**

"Fred! George! Stop this nonsense and just _tell us what you saw!_" growled Hermione, a fierce scowl thundering across her features.

"Now, now, Hermione dear," soothed Fred, holding up his hands in placation.

"There's no need for all that, we were just about to get to the point—" assured George, sidling up to the irate brunette and attempting to sling an arm around her shoulder. She roughly shook him off and heaved a great, long-suffering sigh. A little snicker escaped the twin as he backed off.

"—Before you interrupted us, that is," added Fred cheekily, darting across to the far side of the room as Hermione's expression darkened. Never let it be said Fred was a _stupid_ boy – foolishly daring, yes, but not _stupid. _

"Guys, please," begged Harry, pale hands clutching at his hair. Normally he found the twins' antics rather amusing – primarily when they were inflicting themselves on _other_ people, not him. This was so _not_ what he wanted to deal with after just having woken from some day-long sleep, feeling like he'd been tumbled through a washing machine, with no bloody memory of the night before. Brilliant, really.

"Fine, fine," George waved his hand dismissively, flinging himself onto the bed beside Harry. "Like we were saying, after we heard this ungodly girlish scream," he continued, tossing Harry a pointed glance, "We did what any _concerned _citizen would do, and snuck out of the house in the dead of night to investigate."

"Naturally," muttered Ron, crossing his arms. He already knew what had happened, as he'd had the fortune of being a first-hand witness. He just wanted to twins to quit messing around and prove him right. Then maybe Hermione would stop giving him that achingly disappointed look. Ugh…

For some odd reason Harry was distracted by his friend's muscles that bulged with the movement, thickening and stretching against his sweater. Had Ron always been so muscular? He glanced down at himself, eyes flickering over his pale and admittedly slender limbs. Self-consciously, he too crossed his arms and noticed they didn't bulge nearly as much.

"—thought we'd find some unlawfully sexy damsel in need of our manly rescue services," blinking rapidly, Harry brought his attention back to the conversation at hand. He'd been getting more and more distracted by little odd things lately…

Fred had picked up the story now, his hands gesturing wildly as he enthused, "We forged ahead, heedless of any danger, didn't we, brother?"

"Not even scared, we were!"

"Not even! If there was a pretty maiden that needed rescuing, we weren't going to let her down!"

Hermione rolled her doe eyes at their dramatics, but a small part of her couldn't help be a little swept up. Her heart drummed a little faster. What _had_ the twins seen?

"Closer, closer, the river was close, just a few steps away," an intense Fred leaned in close to Harry, his voice dipping low.

"All was quiet, deathly so, and we did fear something had happened to our fair maiden!" cried George suddenly, startling the others.

"We had to get to her, to save her, this maiden whom whilst on the walk there, George and I had already decided we'd share during the week and then have alone on alternate weekends," threw in Fred, sounding both decisive and disappointed. Harry guessed that – obviously – what they'd found had _not_ been a lovely damsel in distress. Or else he supposed she'd be there with them now, all frilly and flighty and fainting over her heroes… Harry shook his head. Where did these weird mental images come from?

"Finally we pushed through a thicket and the river appeared before us… and on the bank of that river…" George trailed off, his voice a hushed, tense whisper.

"There was…" continued Fred, a tiny quirk of a smile teasing his lips.

"…There was? What? What was there?" murmured Harry, green eyes impossibly wide and frightful.

The twins shared a secretive glance, then as one turned to face the trio. They remained passively silent.

"Oh, for goodness' sake just spit it out already!" ordered Hermione.

"There was Harry," George stated.

"…That's it?"

"Yep. It was Harry's delightfully girlish scream we'd heard," smirked Fred.

"Hey!" Harry was quite sure that _if_ he screamed, and he wasn't sure he _had_, it would be a rather manly scream. Hmph.

"So, what was Harry _doing_ if he wasn't drunk?" prompted Hermione, leveling the twins with an expectant stare.

"Ah, my dear Hermione, it was not what Harry was _doing, _it was what he was _being_," corrected Fred, nodding sagely.

"What he was 'being'? What's that supposed to mean?" she pressed, pursing her lips. If those twins didn't get to the point, so help her…

"What we are saying, Hermy—"

"Don't call me Hermy!"

"—is that Ron was telling the truth."

"You must be joking. It just _doesn't happen!_" she insisted, shaking her head in firm denial.

"But it _did_ happen, Hermione!" affirmed Ron, feeling bolder now that the twins were backing him up – for once.

"Indeed it did, my good man!" George slapped Ron heartily on the back. The younger redhead stumbled forward a bit, shooting his brother a menaced look.

"Our young Harry here… was a mermaid!" finished Fred with a dramatic flourish, flinging his arms wide and drawing himself up pompously.

The silence that followed was so loud and thick, Fred couldn't help but think perhaps he hadn't said it dramatically enough.

"Ahem, I said—" he began, and drew breath deep into his lungs.

"We heard you," said Hermione, faintly, turning dazed eyes to her dear friend, who seemed to be having an embolism.

Trickle by trickle, wave by wave, memories were slowly washing back over Harry's mind. He recalled the daring challenge of skinny dipping that had seemed so harmless. He remembered the cool night air teasing his naked skin. He recollected the first kiss of the water on his legs.

He remembered mind-numbing, ear-splitting, bone-rattling pain. He remembered gasping, struggling, fighting for air, each shuddering breath choking him further, darkness swimming around the edges of his vision, sinking, floundering, the dull roar of water in his ears, pain, gasp, agony, ah! Can't breathe! Can't… can't br…breathe… _Ron… HELP!_

He remembered darkness.

Then Ron's bone-white face blotting out the moon. And he remembered…

Blinking slowly, very… slowly… once… twice… he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, as if to reaffirm he still could breathe.

"I remember," he whispered, lifting his eyes to meet those of his friends'. "I remember," he repeated.

"Oh… oh…" Hermione's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto Ron's violently orange bed. It clashed horribly with her hair.

"Finally you believe me!" shouted Ron, relieved beyond measure. He slumped onto the bed beside her.

"I'm… not sure what to believe," she said. She honestly wasn't. Yes, she had grown used to the magic and wonder that living in the Wizarding world gifted her each and every day. Yes, fantastical things like this happened all the time. There was dragons, goblins, elves, faeries, and fantastical creatures that muggles couldn't even dream of imagining.

But… this? She'd never even heard of a wizard just… suddenly turning into a mermaid!

Wait…

"The fish!" she cried.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, subdued. "That bloody fish."

-1-1-1-1-1-

It had taken some time for everyone to calm down enough to discuss things rationally. The twins had found it all spectacularly hilarious. Hermione's scientifically-inclined mind had eventually kicked in, and she'd leapt right in with one-hundred-and-one different questions that nobody could answer, as they didn't know any more than she did.

Harry had huddled down in his bed for a while, cocooning himself in the protective folds of his blanket and just prayed for it to all be some hallucinogenic-induced nightmare caused by eating one too many of those 'special' mushrooms that Mr. Weasley grew out the back for 'educational' purposes only[1]. Then he remembered he hadn't eaten anything of the sort and there really was no excuse for this horrible nightmare, thus he only had two choices; one: get out of bed and face this nightmarish reality, or two: finally accept his status as a complete loon and allow them to cart him off to St Mungo's.

Hm. Tough choice.

Ron had just been so relieved that _he_ wasn't going insane, he immediately switched into "I told you so" mode and thus repeated the phrase over and over to an increasingly irritated Hermione. After the thirty-eighth "I told you so", she finally smacking him across the back of the head, and left him to nurse his wounded dignity.

"Okay, look, this is obviously a bit of a problem," Hermione straightened up, squared her shoulders, and took charge, giving all a glimpse of what a formidable woman she would become, "I can think of two immediately obvious dangers with this. One, if the press found out, it would be a social nightmare for you, Harry," he couldn't help but agree. They'd be all over him, and it would just stem a whole plethora of other problems… "Two, if Voldemort found out… well, there's no telling how vulnerable you are in that form. If all he had to do was get you wet to incapacitate you…" she shot a disapproving look to the twins, who'd snickered at the unintended double-entendre, "_Anyway,_ we need to find out more about this, so I suggest we take a three-pronged approach."

"'Three-pronged'?" mouthed Ron to his brothers. They both shook their heads cluelessly.

"Firstly, we need to research. Which means we need books. I don't know if I have enough here with me that may contain any relevant material, which means we either wait until we get back to Hogwarts – and idea I'm _not_ fond of, as time is of the essence – or we go back to Diagon Alley and visit Flourish and Blotts. Which leads to my second approach, going back to Alrum's Animalia and finding out all we can from _him_ (_without _letting on what has happened to Harry), and hopefully get another look at that fish. And thirdly, we need to conduct some experiments."

Harry gulped, shifting uneasily under the covers, "…Experiments?"

"Of course! We need to find out as much as we can in very little time, that means we need to do some at-home testing. Nothing invasive, Harry, don't worry."

"'Don't worry,' she says. You're not the one about to get experimented on!" bellowed Harry, pulling the sheets up higher over his head.

"Harry, be reasonable. We _need_ to know this. What if it's not just triggered by water? What if it's any liquid? What happens if you accidentally get splashed, how long will you remain in your new… ah… form? How much control do you have over your new… appendage?"

Harry sighed. Of course she was right. She usually was. He supposed he should be grateful he had a friend as level-headed and intelligent as Hermione but…

"Oh and we should probably tell Dumbledore as soon as possible."

"No."

"But, Harry!"

"No. I don't want to… not yet. Can't I just enjoy the rest of the holidays?"

"It's no good burying your head in the sand, Harry."

"…I know, just… look, it's only a week. Can't it wait until we get back to school?"

"I suppose," Hermione conceded, "but as soon as we get back, we _must_ tell. He'll be able to help keep you safe Harry."

"Fine. Can I just… be alone for now? Before we go all 'gung-ho' about fixing this mess… I just need to… sleep for a while or something." More like wallow in self-pity, but who's telling?

Hermione gazed sorrowfully at the huddled lump under the blankets. She glanced at Ron. He nodded at her, offering a slight smile.

"Okay Harry. We'll leave you alone for now."

"Yeah, mate. I'll tell mum you're still not up to getting out of bed," promised Ron, rising to his feet. Feeling rather gentlemanly, he offered his hand out to Hermione to help her up. She quirked a brow at him and gave him an amused smile before placing her hand in his and standing up.

Ron had no idea his body could tingle all over like that from a simple touch. A goofy grin spread across his face. Fortunately Hermione's eyes were once again lingering on Harry's hidden form, so she missed the incredible love-struck expression on his face.

"Come on," he urged, face flushing. She nodded briefly at him and they both moved to the door. Her hand still clasped in his.

Fred and George tittered between themselves, then as one turned to Harry, "Righteo, Old Chap, we'll clear on out," chirped Fred.

"Before we go though, did you want to finish that glass of water? We've a whole pitcher if you need. Here, we'll just…" as he spoke, a decidedly wicked look stole over George's face, as he crept ever closer to the huddled mass of Harry. In his hands he held the half-full pitcher of water. Then, just as he was poised to tip the water over the unsuspecting Harry, Hermione happened to catch them out of the corner of her eye as she was leaving the room.

"GEORGE!" she shrieked, dropping Ron's hand as if it were hot coal and charging over to his mischievous brother.

"Merlin on a broomstick![2]" George exclaimed, and threw his hands up in fright. Unfortunately, he also let go of the pitcher. It flew into the air, and as one they all watched it flip and turn. Water sloshed and sprayed out, caught by the light and glistening beautifully in the afternoon light.

Harry, who had tentatively poked his head out to see what the commotion was about – hadn't they promised to leave him in peace? – just managed to catch a glimpse of four stunned faces before—

Cold all over his legs.

"You stupid, stupid boys!" raged Hermione, "What were you thinking?!"

"Now, now, Hermy—" George stretched his hands out before him, edging away from her as if she were a raging bull, liable to charge any moment. She huffed so forcefully it was a wonder steam wasn't shooting out her nostrils. Ron stomped over to stand beside her, his face the depiction of thunder.

A groan from the bed caught their attention, and the twins used that small window of opportunity to high-tail it out of there.

On the verge of hyperventilating, Harry gently pushed the sodden covers off. As they slid down, each inch revealed a sparkling expanse of stunning sea-green scales, so delicate and jewel-like.

"Oh, Harry…" whimpered Hermione, her hand moving of its own will to brush against those silken scales. He jerked under her touch, scuttling backwards awkwardly. Harry's own face was awash with horror, staring at the grotesquely beautiful mutation his legs had become. With each movement, the… thing… would twitch, muscles subtly shifting beneath those scales.

Ron, too, found himself completely stunned. He hadn't really had a good look the previous night, what with it being so dark and him having a mild panic attack at the time. But now that he could get a good look at them, they really were rather… lovely.

"Um," Harry began, squeezing his eyes shut, "could someone maybe get me a towel?"

And there it is, the brand-new fourth chapter of Fantasie Impromptu: A Wet Tale. Not terribly exciting or eventful, but it did serve its purpose, setting the scene and planning for what's to come.

**Up Next:** Begin Hermione's experimentation phase, a trip back to Diagon Alley, and Alrum's definitely up to something.

There will be some Harry/Draco interaction once they get back to Hogwarts in the next couple of chapters, but we will get some 'on-screen' Draco time before that, to introduce him to the story.

Feel free to review if you liked it, it would mean a lot to me to know people are still out there to enjoy this. I only ask that nobody flame me for my long absence.

[1] That's right. Magic mushrooms _

[2] Bit of a play on a blasphemous phrase I often say when I get a shock: "Jesus Christ on a pogo stick!"


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